


No Universe Without You

by spideyandstark



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, fellas it's about to get gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-08-27 06:40:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16697371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideyandstark/pseuds/spideyandstark
Summary: A collection of one shots about the new TARDIS team. (Mostly Thasmin)





	1. The Panelled Alcove

**Author's Note:**

> so what happened in that panelled alcove Huh

“Oof, bit squashed in here, isn’t it?” says the Doctor, sounding very pleased and not at all inconvenienced. She wriggles around in the alcove, trying a number of different positions - her back pressed against the door, then against the wall, then shoulder (well, neck) to shoulder with Ryan - before finally settling on the one where she’s closest to Yaz, her hair brushing lightly against the shorter girl’s cheek.

“Hey, that’s my foot you’re treading on,” Ryan says indignantly, squirming.

“Sorry!”

“Comfy yet?” Yaz tries, as the Doctor keeps shuffling. She hopes the Doctor merely associates the warm glow of her own cheeks with the warmth of the enclosed space, rather than the proximity of the two of them. She knows better than to hope for the same innocence in Ryan; he’s pressed against the corner of the tiny room and gracing her with a very knowing smirk.

“Comfy, yes!” the Doctor finally exclaims as she settles, her hip pressing Yaz’s side. “Yaz, you’re very comfy.” 

Yaz’s flush deepens, and she bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling.

“How long will we be in here?” asks Ryan. 

“Ah - half hour I reckon,” says the Doctor, with her trademark face-scrunch. Her eyes light up in excitement. “Oooh, can we play a game?”

Ryan perks up immediately. “Sounds good.”

“What game have you got in mind?”

“Hm.” The Doctor taps her chin. “Oh! Oh! Larvisian Ludo!”

“Ludo?” Yaz says. “Isn’t that a board game?”

The Doctor is already digging through her pockets - or trying to, at least. With Yaz pressed against her side, she keeps uttering apologies as her arm moves dynamically against Yaz’s ribs. Finally she retrieves a folded sheet of paper and lifts it high above her head, a wide grin on her face.

“Ten points, Yaz! Think of Earth Ludo and then multiply the fun by two hundred and seventy eight. Also, it’s nothing like Earth Ludo.”

“I’ve never heard of Ludo,” Ryan frowns, eyeing the sheet.

Yaz shrugs at him. “You sorta just… race to the end. By throwing a dice.”

The Doctor unfurls the paper. It hovers of its own accord in the tiny space between the three, folding itself at the corners to fit perfectly. The Doctor fumbles around in her pocket again before her face falls.

“What’s wrong?” says Yaz, instinctively clutching the Doctor’s arm.

The Doctor swears in a language neither of them understand, then straightens again. “Dice! Stupid dice! Forgot to put it in my new coat!” She runs a hand through her hair exasperatedly and the pale strands fall obstructively in front of her pout. “Either of you got a fifteen-sided dice?”

“No, sorry,” says Yaz, her voice lilting with either disappointment or laughter.

“Lost mine on Desolation,” says Ryan.

“Ah, that’s a shame, Ryan.” The Doctor has started refolding the paper, apparently oblivious to Ryan’s sarcasm. Or maybe she’s responding to it. Yaz can never tell.

“Don’t worry, Doctor, we can play a different game,” suggests Yaz, her gaze drawn forward to meet Ryan’s. “Right?”

“Yeah, like truth or dare.”

The Doctor stops fumbling with her pockets to look at Ryan. “What’s truth or dare?”

Yaz grins at the childlike intensity with which the Doctor examines her companion. “Well, you just take it in turns, you choose whether you want to answer a truth - that’s a question - or a dare, where you have to do anything we decide.”

“Oh! Brilliant! You lovely humans and your games. Show me how it’s done!”

“A’right,” Yaz smirks. “Ryan, truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Dare you to give me your phone,” says Yaz, eyes glinting playfully.

Ryan holds the device protectively to his chest. “Uh, why?”

“Just do the dare.” 

“I dunno, last time I left my phone, the Doctor repurposed it or something.”

“Reformatted!” the Doctor chimes helpfully.

“Well I don’t know how to do that.” Yaz extends her hand. “C’mon, quit being a baby.”

Ryan pouts and drops the phone into Yaz’s open hand. She enters his passcode and swipes onto his text messages.

“Wait, how the hell’d you know my passcode?” 

“Ryan, your passcode is ‘1234’. It hasn’t changed since Year 5.”

“Sorry for being consistent,” Ryan mutters.

The Doctor is leaning enthusiastically over Yaz’s shoulder, her eyes wide. “Did he win the dare?”

“No,” says Yaz, “haven’t done anything yet!”

The Doctor watches as Yaz punches out a text message then tosses the phone back over to Ryan with a grin. He takes a moment to examine it. 

“No no no no! Yaz! Shit!” He taps frantically. 

“What’d you do?” the Doctor frowns. 

Yaz is bent over laughing, clutching the Doctor’s side. “Got him a date with Sonya!”

A loud ping erupts through Yaz’s laughter. Ryan curses again. “Why is she always on that phone? She’s responded!”

Yaz howls and the Doctor is laughing now, too. “What’s wrong with Yaz’s fam?” she asks. 

“Sonya looks like Yaz!” 

“Not following,” says the Doctor.

“I can’t go out with someone who looks like Yaz,” Ryan exaggerates. “She’s not my _type.”_

“Wow,” says Yaz, “cheers, Ryan.”

“You know what I mean! You’re like my sister!” Ryan pulls a face. 

“Type of what? Is this part of the game?” The Doctor says, doing her best confused eyes. 

“Aha- no.” Yaz gestures vaguely. Her cheeks tinge with warmth again. “A type of… person. Appearance-wise, mostly.” 

“Is it a cool thing to say?” The Doctor presses. “You’re my type?”

“If you like someone, yeah,” says Ryan. 

“Yaz, you’re my type. And you Ryan. And Graham. And the TARDIS.” The Doctor tries spreading her arms in an embracing motion but she only succeeds in whacking Yaz lightly on the collarbone. 

Yaz almost splutters. “N-No, Doctor, like as in, _like like.”_

The Doctor frowns exasperatedly, decidedly done with the more superfluous details of human communications. Her brow is furrowed and her fingers curled around the rough exterior of the sonic screwdriver, as if the beeping device might give her some kind of explanation - or consolation. Yaz bites back a laugh. The Doctor can spout facts about every alien planet they’ve ever come across, and here she is poring over a linguistic difference.

Finally she tries: “So, _double_ like? I double like you both. Triple like. Quadruple like. Quint—“

“She means _fancies,”_ Ryan interjects. “When you fancy someone you wanna go on a date with them.”

The Doctor’s lips form a very distinct ‘o’.

“Fancy! Well, wasn’t lying about the TARDIS. Sexy thing.” 

“Yeah… What exactly is the relationship there?” asks Ryan.

The Doctor winks suggestively. “Don’t think it’s your turn to ask, Ryan.” 

It becomes very difficult for Yaz to pent up her laughter now, and she doubles over giggling, her hand pressed against her mouth. It seems infectious, the Doctor’s wide grin dissipating into a splutter of her own. Even Ryan is doing his best to keep a straight face. But then the Doctor pushes forward and presses her ear against the door and suddenly her hands are clamped against her companions’ mouths.

The heat seeps into Yaz’s cheeks again. The Doctor’s hands are cool for once, annoyingly, and Yaz’s flustered brain searches for some kind of excuse. Quietly, the Doctor releases Ryan but she shifts on Yaz’s side and presses her palm against her forehead. 

“Kerblam - men. Didn’t hear us,” the Doctor explains, removing her sonic from her mouth with her now-free hand. “Y’alright, Yaz? Feel a bit hot.”

“Yeah - yeah, fine. Just, uh. Bit cramped in here.”

Ryan is smirking at her again. When the Doctor looks away to pocket her screwdriver, Yaz flips him the bird.

“Yeah, it is a bit,” the Doctor admits. “Don’t worry! We’ll be out soon. Shall we continue the game?”

“Sure,” says Ryan. “You ask Yaz now, Doctor.”

“Brilliant! Yaz! Truth or dare!”

“Er, truth,” Yaz smiles.

The Doctor looks at Ryan. “You only showed me dare.”

“Just ask her a question,” Ryan shrugs. “Anything about her that you want to know.”

“Oh, alright. Hmm. The spiders!” she suddenly exclaims.

“The - what?”

“Spiders. In Sheffield. The big ones.” 

“Yes, what about them?”

“Well, not about the spiders. What happened during the spiders. Yaz, when your mum asked if we were seeing each other, what did that mean?”

The following silence is penetrated only by Ryan’s quiet sniggering. Confusion flitters across the Doctor’s gaze again.

“Sorry, was that a bad question? Did I ask it wrong?”

“No, no,” Yaz says, recovering from the cold bout of shock. “Sorry, I had to think. Er, it means… I mean - when two people are - seeing each other, they’re kind of like -”

“Dating,” Ryan supplies helpfully.

“Like the type thing?” says the Doctor, very interested.

“Kind of,” Yaz admits. “So, uh - my mum - she was asking if we were - together.”

“Sexually,” Ryan adds, followed by “Ow!” as Yaz stomps on his foot.

“Oh, I get it,” the Doctor nods, unbothered. She repeats the words happily. “Seeing each other.”

“Ryan, your turn,” Yaz mutters, bright red.

“Alright, Doctor, truth or dare?”

“Ooh, give me a dare, Ryan.”

“Got it.” Ryan pauses. He looks between Yaz and the Doctor. Yaz looks back at him, alarmed by the mischievous glint in his eye, the way the corner of his lips are tugged upwards ever-so-slightly. The Doctor has wedged herself between Yaz and the wall and is pressing a stethoscope against it, frowning as she tries to figure out if the coast is clear.

Ryan coughs uncertainly.

“Dare you to kiss Yaz.”

The Doctor slowly pulls her stethoscope away from the wall and looks at Ryan, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Sorry?”

“I dare you to-”

“We heard it,” Yaz snaps.

“Is that allowed?” the Doctor asks curiously. She’s wringing her hands together. “I mean…”

She meets Yaz’s eyes, and Yaz knows exactly what she means. 

Yaz nods slowly. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, it’s allowed. But you don’t have to-”

She’s intercepted by a gentle kiss on the lips, quick and sweet, while Ryan watches on with a hand clapped over his mouth excitedly. He snaps his fingers and whoops.

“Ohh, Graham owes me a tenner now!”

The Doctor starts laughing against Yaz’s mouth and presses their foreheads together. Yaz doesn’t know if she wants to punch Ryan or hug him, but maybe she’ll do both.

Finally the Doctor draws back, fingers hovering briefly above Yaz’s cheekbones. Yaz stares at her in dumbfounded shock, hands still curled around the Doctor’s hips, eyes wide in a flustered awe.

“Well, did I win the game?” The Doctor smiles softly, taking Yaz’s hand.

“Definitely,” Ryan says quickly, running a hand through his hair. “Whoa.”

The Doctor’s grin widens and she gently releases a still-astounded Yaz to press her ear to the wall again. 

“Nope, still out there. Oh! Shall I tell you about Agatha Christie?”

Both companions agree. Yaz stands smiling, tracing miniscule patterns onto the Doctor’s knuckles, as she talks excitedly about a wasp and Agatha Christie and a girl called Donna. And maybe she does rest her head on Ryan’s shoulder for a fleeting moment, utters a thanks into his ear and presses her side momentarily against his as the Doctor keeps rambling. 

(She waits until the Doctor looks away before she kicks him in the shin, anyway.)


	2. Humans are made of Stardust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They watch the birth of home.

“Sunglasses!” The Doctor shouts. She’s darting around the console wearing a pair of black shades, halting suddenly by the biscuit pedal and continually pumping it with her foot. 

“Got them!” Ryan yells from a room down one of the TARDIS’ winding passageways. He jogs back out towards the others, where the Doctor is now piling custard creams into Yaz’s arms.

Graham is looking skeptically at the doors. “You sure there’s enough room, Doc?”

“Course there is,” the Doctor says, teeth clenched around a final biscuit. “Just gotta squash together.” 

Ryan hands Graham a pair of glasses and slips the other ones clumsily over Yaz’s eyes. She grins and nods to the doors, and Ryan rushes to open them. 

The Doctor races after him, leaving a trail of crumbs in her wake. Ryan yanks the dual doors open and sits with his legs dangling over the ledge into dark, empty space. Graham plops down beside him and shifts as close as he can to his grandson, leaving room for the two women in the space occupied by the other door. 

Yaz hands Graham her biscuit pile and sits, too. She adjusts her glasses now she has the chance, before reaching up and lightly taking the Doctor’s hand, guiding her and her teetering stack to the ground. 

“Cheers Yaz,” says the Doctor, her legs swinging excitedly beyond the sill. “Anyone want a biscuit?” 

Graham takes one to have with his tea. Ryan takes four. 

“Are you gonna tell us what we’re watching now, Doctor?” asks Yaz, eyes bright with curiosity. 

The Doctor grins, adjusts her sunglasses, takes a bite of her custard cream, and says: “Spoilers.”

Before any of them can question _that,_ as if on cue, a burst of light erupts in the far distance… Except it’s a cacophony, a myriad of colour bursting into existence - shades of the sky at twilight, of the oceans pulsing under gilded rays, of the way love and wonder _feel._ Yaz can’t drag her gaze away, but she reaches for the Doctor’s hand, sees her legs swinging dangerously over the ledge of the TARDIS, hair wild and eyes warm and veins flowing stardust. 

The light expands, and collapses, and bursts outwards again. 

“I love this part,” the Doctor laughs. 

There’s no sound in space, so she creates it. The TARDIS whirls to life behind them, humming a tune that’s old and beautiful, a song that tastes a little like home. Yaz has heard it on the Doctor’s lips as she pores over a book in the library. She’s seen it tapped into the grooves of the console as the Doctor works, absent-minded traces of a large, circular alphabet. _Yes,_ she thinks, _a song of home._

The TARDIS shudders slightly, and the world before them hardens into a sphere of molten rock. 

“Is it,” Yaz starts tentatively, “is it _Earth?”_

“Bingo! Yaz, twelve points!” The Doctor is so excited now Yaz is frightened of her falling over the edge. 

“No way,” says Ryan. 

Beside him, Graham brushes a tear from his cheek. The Doctor quietly reaches across Ryan and takes his hand in hers, pressing her thumb into the bridge of his knuckles in a comforting gesture. 

“Are you alright?” she murmurs imploringly. 

Graham smiles. “Never better, Doc. It’s beautiful, really. Just…”

The sentence dies on Graham’s lips but Grace’s name lingers in the air. Ryan pulls an arm around his shoulder as the Doctor releases his hand. 

The TARDIS moves softly again and the Earth cools and the oceans are there, next. The Doctor nestles her head beneath Yasmin’s chin. 

“Thank you,” she says. “It’s so much better when I’ve got people to share it with.”

There’s an underlying sadness there that causes Yaz to brush the fringe away from the woman’s face and press a kiss to her forehead. She imagines the Doctor alone, legs dangling freely against blinding supernovas, the TARDIS wailing in such a way one can almost pluck names from the air. Thirteen faces blinking into the darkness, a blue box hanging solitary on the edge of the universe.

The Doctor pulls away and smiles again, tracing the constellations with her finger and landing on the Earth. Something like nostalgia shines in her eyes.

“Planet Earth!” she announces, absently pulling Yaz’s hand into her lap. “Love planet Earth. One of my favourites. 4.6 billion years ago, your solar system was a solar nebula, a cloud of dust and gas. Gravity collapsed the material in on itself, forming your sun. The particles in space were drawn - clumped together - by this huge ball of gas illuminating your galaxy… And large particles, bound by the force of gravity, drew together until you were left with rocky, terrestrial planets - Earth.”

She gestures magnanimously to the evolving Earth.

“But here’s the cool part,” she grins wickedly, pushing her shades up into her mess of blonde. “You see, matter can’t come from nowhere - can’t be created or destroyed, that’s physics - so everything here is made up of matter that’s existed for billions of years, swirling cosmic dust that’s been brought together in the fusion of this whole system…” The Doctor shakes her head, quick and emotional, her pace quickening into something feverish and excitable. “Stardust! Rippling through this ocean of darkness! Matter that has been breathed by generations, stars that’ve guided travellers like me, that’s what you’re all made of.” 

Here they are - a man, a woman, a widower, a time lord - with cyclones swirling in their veins, with fire in their throats and hands bearing cuts from alien stones; people who like tea and movies and biscuits, staring history in the face and fighting to protect it. 

They’ve returned home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ the physicist reading this: i'm very sorry
> 
> also thirteen is wearing the sonic sunglasses and You Can't Stop Me


	3. Regeneration Energy and Circle Thingies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yaz gets shot, maybe. The Doctor can't really remember. But she _did_ use her regeneration energy to bring her back.

She misses the circle thingies, she thinks. Yeah, the weird round shapes that used to litter the walls; not that she doesn’t like the crystal outcrops, her mind reels, as the TARDIS gives a cautionary rumble below her. 

She moves her head and her vision goes fuzzy again. There’s another jolt, and she frowns and squeezes her eyes shut as the TARDIS tries to get her moving. Five more minutes, she thinks. The overhead lights blast into full brightness, tracing mottled patterns behind her closed eyelids. Her nose scrunches up painfully and she lazily drapes her arm across her face.

The Doctor wakes up again a period of time later. She’s usually very good at judging periods of time, however she has no idea how long she’s been laying on the ground in the console room. Actually, she doesn’t know why she’s laying down in the console room at all. Maybe she got tired. No, that doesn’t seem right - she doesn’t get tired a lot, and usually Yaz takes her to bed long before she results to - well - laying on the floor in the console room.

Where’s Yaz, anyway? 

The TARDIS hums and forces something into her mind. Usually it’s words, but she seems to realise the Doctor’s mind is too scrambled to hear her so now there’s a picture of her companions and an alien race with very big guns and then there’s Yaz screaming out in terror. Yaz falling to her knees clutching her side. Yaz-

The Doctor tries to stand up, falls dizzy to her knees and passes out again.

“-c. Doc. Doc!” 

Oh, that’s a lot of fear. She feels it through the firm grasp of Graham’s hand as he shakes her shoulder. She squints and the TARDIS reluctantly lowers her lights, not before calling her an idiot.

“Mhhm, yeah?”

“What the hell are ya doin’ on the floor of the TARDIS?”

The Doctor looks around. Ryan is standing over her holding some sort of cream. She tries to read the label.

“Oi, over here,” Graham says, squeezing her shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“Where’s Yaz?” she says.

“Resting... like you said,” Ryan frowns. “You know. After the whole ‘incident’.” He makes air quotations with his fingers.

“What?” the Doctor mumbles. But then she feels it through the steady thrum of Graham’s pulse against her shoulder; a fire and a ringing shot and Yaz in pain again. She sees herself, sprinting back into the massacre and pulling the woman across her shoulder and gritting her teeth as Yaz’s tears seep into her coat. They enter the TARDIS. The Doctor sits Yaz down and pushes her hands into the gaping wound on her stomach and golden energy flows into the cells, revitalising. Then she ushers the three of them out with the instruction to put Yaz to bed. Gosh, she’s a bit bossy.

“What’s going on here then?” comes Yaz’s voice, and the Doctor tries to turn her head.

“You tell me! Came to get your tea and found the Doc on the floor!”

The thoughts are buzzing; uncertainty and panic, the nauseating replay of Yaz’s pitching scream. The Doctor pushes Graham’s hand away. 

“Doctor?” Yaz says, sinking down to her knees beside her. Poor Graham is looking at his hand in confusion.

“Mmhmm. Hi Yaz. How’re you feelin’?”

“Could ask you the same question,” Yaz frowns. “I’m fine though. That energy - it was like what happened in Sheffield, wasn’t it? When you fell from the sky.” She narrows her eyes. “And then passed out.”

“Oh yeah!” Ryan says suddenly. “Oh yeah, why’d you waste that on Yaz?”

Yaz glares at him. He raises his hands in surrender: “Only joking, Jesus…”

“Didn’t waste it,” the Doctor yawns. “Can’t have a universe with no Yaz.”

“What’s happening to you now then, are you sick?” Graham frowns in concern.

“She had to rest last time,” Yaz says. “Do you need to sleep?”

The Doctor’s nose scrunches and she makes out to object, but before she can the TARDIS illuminates a neat pathway leading directly to the Doctor’s bedroom, and she sighs: “Yeah, guess so.”

“Right,” Yaz says. “OK, let’s go then.”

Gently, she takes the Doctor’s arms and pulls her to her feet. The Doctor leans heavily against her. Yaz takes one look between the console and the stretching line of dotted lights and thinks she’s going to put her police training to the best use it’s got, probably. She bends over, tucks her elbows under the Doctor’s knees and carries her bridal-style.

“Whoa,” breathes Ryan. “That’s badass.”

The Doctor thinks so, too. She’s looking up at Yaz with a poorly-concealed grin. Yaz flushes. She’s doing it to get the Doctor to bed faster. That’s it - yeah, just taking her mate the Doctor to bed. Maybe she’ll even stay with her while she falls asleep. Maybe they can cuddle or-

“Ooh yeah, I love cuddles, Yaz,” the Doctor murmurs, burying her face into Yaz’s hoodie as she walks down the corridor.

Yaz freezes and looks down at the woman curled up in her arms and the Doctor pouts as she realises the journey has stopped, confused. 

“Doctor,” Yaz says, making note of the way her voice sounds echoed off the panelled walls. She definitely did _not_ express her wishes out loud. 

“Mhmm? Oh sorry, did I read your mind? Didn’t mean to, promise. Touch telepathy, sometimes I can’t tell. Unless it’s really secret or somethin’. But I _do_ love a cuddle.” 

God, Yaz can’t help but laugh. She shakes her head fondly as she stops at the Doctor’s door. The TARDIS slides it open. 

“Thank you,” Yaz says. She steps inside. 

The Doctor’s messily endearing room shines back at her. 

“Yeah, it _is_ endearing,” the Doctor says, indignant as she looks up at the ceiling. The TARDIS rumbles exasperatedly. 

Yaz helps the Doctor onto the bed. She snuggles down under the covers and looks at the younger woman expectantly until Yaz smirks and clambers into bed with her. 

“Happy now?”

“Very happy,” the Doctor says. “Night Yaz,” 

“Goodnight Doctor,” Yaz smiles, gently guiding the mass of blonde to rest on her chest. The Doctor is already asleep. Yaz strokes the hair from her eyes and plants a soft kiss to her forehead. “Thank you for saving me.”

And _I love you_ tingles through her skin and rests stagnantly in the Doctor’s mind, so that when she wakes, it’s there waiting, and so are Graham and Ryan, and so is the universe beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i live to hurt the doctor sorry i love her

**Author's Note:**

> i've got like four one shots planned so far for this series but i'll write more when i get ideas !! if you want to send prompts to my tumblr @spideyandstark i'd be happy to write them!!
> 
> kudos and comments make me happy :)


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